


In My Clothes

by Lavenderaesthetic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie wears Richie's shirt, M/M, PWP, Richie is into it(tm), Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavenderaesthetic/pseuds/Lavenderaesthetic
Summary: The first thing he notices is that yes, Eddie is indeed making coffee in the kitchen. The second thing he notices is that Eddie is wearing one of Richie’s button down floral shirts. It’s too big for him, almost reaching his mid thigh. The last thing Richie notices, well, it’s only the last thing because his brain can’t seem to move on or process any other thoughts that could come his way, is that Eddie isn’t wearing anything else, at all, underneath that shirt. It may be early in the morning, and he may have already woken up like this, but Richie’s definitely turned on.-There's no plot. You're Welcome.Part of the IT fandom Exchange
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 248





	In My Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for, ironically, the other Caroline (birightsrichie on Tumblr), who's work I LOVE, for the It fandom Exchange.  
> Enjoy :)

Richie eases out of unconsciousness gradually, blinking lightly and then squinting as hard as he can, because, even though he doesn’t remember leaving the curtains in his and Eddie’s shared bedroom parted, the light seeps out between the opening and settles right on his face. It’s irritating because he’s still tired and does not want to move or adjust his comfortable position of laying on his stomach with his arms encasing his pillow in order to keep the glare off of his face. But, he knows that if he stays like this, squinting for too long and unable to rest his eyes, they’ll start to hurt or he’ll get a headache, neither of which sounds good. He summons the strength to turn his head away from the light, squishing his other cheek into his pillow. 

Without the ray of warmth of his face, Richie takes a calming breath, ready to settle in and doze off once more. It’s Saturday, which means no class for him-  _ nice _ \- and no class or work for his boyfriend Eddie-  _ nicer _ . It also means he can lay here for a little while longer with said boyfriend. It also  _ also  _ means that they can spend the day doing anything. Or just each other. 

Richie suddenly realizes that the bed is colder than usual and that  _ he  _ is colder than usual. He doesn’t feel his usual company beside him, clinging around his own lanky body with small but powerful limbs. Eddie must have rolled away in his sleep, as he sometimes does, so Richie reaches out, trying to pull him closer, but he finds only cold empty sheets beside him. 

He peaks open his eyes, expecting Eddie to be near the edge of their bed, clutching the comforter, because Richie’s body is  _ barely  _ covered at all, and that’s being generous. But he’s not in the bed at all, and the comforter is hanging off the edge of the mattress. 

Richie blinks, opening his eyes fully to survey the lack of boyfriend next to him. He can still see the imprint of Eddie’s head on the pillow, which means he probably hasn’t been up for long. It looks like Eddie  _ had  _ been clutching their shared blanket, and when he had gotten up, most of it had fallen over the edge of the bed, leaving Richie in this semi-bare scandalous state. 

Richie desperately wants to pull the blanket from where it’s barely covering the small of his back to cover the rest of himself and fall back asleep. But, he so desperately wants to be around Eddie  _ more _ . 

He sits up and yawns, rubbing his eyes. His hand fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand, and he shoves the clunky, black frames onto his face. The room is quite bright, and he blinks rapidly to adjust his now clear vision. The bedroom door is ajar, and Richie knows they had shut it last night, so he guesses that Eddie is probably in the bathroom and will come back to bed, since he left it open. But then, Richie hears the quiet beep of their coffee machine echo down the hall and he knows Eddie is actually in the kitchen. 

Richie slips on a pair of boxers because he is very naked and cold- thanks to Eddie on  _ both  _ accounts- and makes his way to through their small, single bedroom apartment to the little kitchen. 

The first thing he notices is that yes, Eddie is indeed making coffee in the kitchen. He’s standing at the counter with his back towards Richie, one hand on his hip, and the other sitting on the counter as his fingers rap gently against it, one after the other. The second thing he notices is that Eddie is wearing one of Richie’s button down floral shirts. It’s too big for him, almost reaching his mid thigh. It covers his ass though, which, if Richie is being completely honest, is disappointing. The last thing Richie notices, well, it’s only the  _ last  _ thing because his brain can’t seem to move on or process any other thoughts that could come his way, is that Eddie isn’t wearing anything else,  _ at all _ , underneath that shirt. 

It’s one of the white ones with colored, flowered designs, so Richie can see that there are no other clothes beneath it. The shirt rises on his side, almost to his waist, and the bare, tan skin on the side of Eddie’s thigh  _ also  _ clues him in. 

It may be early in the morning, and he may have already woken up like this, but Richie’s  _ definitely  _ turned on. 

He swallows. 

The machine beeps again, which slightly brings Richie back into reality, but not fully. His brain melts again as he watches Eddie stop tapping his fingers on the counter and press a button on the machine. As Eddie reaches up to grab two mugs from the cabinet, Richie slides up behind him with firm hands on his waist, unable to stand by any longer. Eddie huffs a startled breath, before relaxing into Richie’s hold and setting the mugs down on the counter. 

“Good morning.” Eddie breathes, but Richie doesn’t really hear him, his brain still  _ very  _ distracted. He hums quietly in response, his hand clenching on Eddie’s waist. His other travels slowly down to Eddie’s hip, to where the rise of the shirt is hemmed. He traces the line gently, and Eddie hums. The shirt is soft, but Eddie is  _ so  _ much softer. 

“I  _ said  _ ‘good morning’. You’re supposed to open your big fat mouth and respond.” Richie laughs, his mind finally turning on again. 

“Sorry, Eds. Got distracted by this hot piece right here.” He grabs Eddie’s ass lewdly, enjoying the way Eddie laughs it off, but leans into it. “Or, it’s lack of coverage, more specifically.” Eddie huffs indignantly. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” 

“You’re naked body?  _ Definitely _ .” 

“I’m not  _ naked _ . I’m wearing a  _ shirt- _ ” 

“Mhm. And it’s just the right size.” Richie trails his fingers on the hem of the shirt on the back of Eddie's thigh. Eddie shivers. “Like you.” Richie pinches him and Eddie yelps. 

“Shut the fuck up and let me make coffee, you asshole.” Eddie pushes him off, but Richie catches his waist again, pulling them closer together. Richie leans in close to his ear. 

“Don’t want coffee.” Richie murmurs, before trailing a few soft kisses on Eddie’s neck. Eddie stands firm, not leaning towards Richie’s touch like he usually does. 

“Well,  _ I  _ do.” Eddie places one of the coffee mugs under the machine, under the spout. “So, you’ll  _ just  _ have to  _ wait _ .” He presses the blinking button, and the machine begins to fill the mug with fresh coffee. Richie will admit, it smells good this early in the morning, and he does want some. But, he’d rather focus his attention on other, more  _ pressing  _ matters. 

When the mug is full Eddie grabs it, turning around to face Richie. He leans down to kiss Eddie, but is blocked by the mug. Richie pouts, trailing the hem of the shirt with his fingertips again, hoping it will entice him. 

“After?” 

“Maybe.” Eddie says absentmindedly and shrugs. He tries, and fails, to hide a coy smile behind the mug because he can’t hide  _ anything  _ from Richie. 

But he’ll play along. 

“ _ Eddie _ .” Richie whines. “You kidding me? I wake up and you’re wearing  _ this _ ? I’m  _ literally  _ dying of a hard on right now.” Eddie makes a face, one that has Richie holding back his laughter. 

“It’s just a shirt. I have no pity for you.” Eddie swallows another sip, and Richie watches it go down his throat, mesmerized. 

“You’ll just have to fuck my corpse, then. Since you’re going to let me die, you might as well still use my body.” He says without thinking. Eddie recoils, shoving at him, but Richie laughs. 

“That’s fucking disgusting, Richie.” 

“You like it.” 

“I do  _ not _ . Get off me. We’re never having sex again.” Eddie frees himself from Richie’s hold, turning his back toward him again. He takes another sip of coffee before setting the mug back onto the counter, tapping his nails on the porcelain cup. Richie rounds next him, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. Just keeps staring down at his mug. 

“Oh really?” Richie leans onto the counter, sliding his elbow across it. “Where else you gonna get dicked this good, huh?” 

“Gee, let me take my pick.” Eddie mutters. Richie blinks. 

“ _Take_ _your pick_?” 

“From my list of replacements for you.” And Eddie says it so confidently and with such a straight face, that Richie almost believes him. He even feels his face pale slightly. But then those brown eyes glance at him and he sees the smirk on Eddie’s face as he sets his mug down. Richie smiles teasingly, licking his teeth. 

“That wasn’t very nice, Eds.” Richie sets his hand firmly on top of the mug, sliding it towards him. “I tell you you’re a hot piece, and you tell me you’ve got a list of other dicks to fuck?” Eddie wrinkles his nose. 

_ Cute _ . 

“Not what I said  _ exactly- _ ” Eddie reaches for the mug, but Richie holds it out of his reach. 

“Oh, but it’s what you meant.” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” Eddie leans closer, so that Richie can feel his breath on his lips. “Dick?” Richie huffs. 

“Are you calling me that or do you want it?” Eddie narrows his eyes. 

“I  _ want  _ my coffee back.” Eddie reaches for the mug again, but Richie holds it back. 

“I’ll give it to you.” Richie taps his lips. “For a kiss.” Eddie rolls his eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“You’re a moron.” Richie shrugs, pulling him closer by the waist so Eddie can wrap his arms around Richie’s neck.    
“It’s part of my Tozier charm.” Eddie chuckles lightly, and Richie connects their lips. It’s short and sweet. Eddie smiles into it for a moment, before relaxing his lips and letting Richie take over. 

The warmth that Richie had been missing when he woke up is being given to him now, with Eddie’s body on his. His hands are hot, resting on Richie’s neck, and his breath is warm on Richie’s lips. Richie tries to soak in as much as he can, trying to deepen the kiss, to part Eddie’s lips so he can feel Eddie’s hot tongue, too. But Eddie’s being persistent and keeping his lips closed. He’s about to put more force into it, when he feels Eddie reach behind him. 

Eddie pulls back, the coffee mug in his hand. 

“Thank you.” He pecks Richie’s lips lightly, before stepping back and taking a long sip. 

Richie is disappointed that it’s over, and he’s about to protest when Eddie states that he’s done and proceeds to dump the remaining half of his cup into the sink. 

“That’s kind of a waste-  _ mmf- _ ” Eddie cuts him off, pulling Richie down by the neck for another kiss. 

It takes Richie by surprise, obviously. He doesn’t immediately respond, his brain lagging in the reactive. He stands for a moment, just letting Eddie kiss him. But then Eddie parts his lips, just the thing he seemingly refused to do mere moments ago, and the cranial cogs start to turn again. Richie pulls Eddie closer, finally kissing back, using his tongue. He, not only hears but, feels Eddie hum into the kiss and Richie likes the tingling feeling it leaves on his lips. He wants more of it, so he hauls Eddie onto the kitchen counter. 

“Fucking cold.” Eddie hisses, biting at Richie’s bottom lip. 

Richie murmurs, “Shoulda worn pants.” between their meeting lips. 

“Fine. I’ll wear pants from now on, all the  _ time _ .” Eddie tugs harshly on Richie’s curls, tipping his head back. 

“Fuck, please don’t.” Richie whines out, feeling his eyes roll back because he loves it when Eddie pulls his hair. 

“Then  _ shut up _ .” Eddie whispers venomously, and kisses him again. Richie feels Eddie’s teeth bite at his bottom lip, at his top lip, at his  _ tongue _ . And  _ shit _ , if he doesn’t love it when Eddie gets riled up like this. It’s so  _ hot _ , when he pulls Richie closer, grips him tighter, kisses him harder. The way Eddie is bursting with carnal desire for him, biting at Richie likes he’s hungry for it. 

Eddie likes to pretend that he’s not as desperate as he seems, at first. He’ll push Richie off playfully, or scold him for his incessant loud and  _ crude  _ mouth. He’ll flush with embarrassment when Richie will tell him exactly how it is, exactly how sexy Eddie is, and which parts of him he likes the most. 

But they always get to a point in which, it seems like a switch is flicked. Like Eddie gets taken over by another person, a sexy vixen that talks dirty way better than Richie’s trash mouth ever could. This Eddie comes out and obliterates Richie- and his dick- in his path, in the best way possible. And Richie is so  _ hot for it _ . He’s always hot for Eddie, but  _ this _ . This takes it to a whole new level, and he tries to flip that switch all the time. Eddie might have caught on to his shenanigans, but Richie doesn’t care, he just wants Eddie as feral as possible. 

And he’s pretty close right now. Richie can tell by the way Eddie’s teeth bite down on his lips over and over and over again and how Eddie’s fingers twist and pull at Richie’s curls and nails scratch sharply down his back and how those thick, powerful thighs lock so  _ tightly  _ around Richie’s waist that he can barely breathe. 

Richie so desperately wants to fuck him right here in the kitchen on the counter, but that will not end well, he already knows. There’s no fucking lube anywhere near them and he doesn’t want to hurt Eddie’s back because he knows, with the way that Eddie is acting right now, the pure desire oozing from him, he will  _ not  _ be settling for a slow session of ‘love making’. 

Richie grips Eddie’s ass, before hauling him up so he can move them to bed. But Eddie keeps coming at him so harshly with hands and lips that Richie doesn’t think they’ll make it back, so he settles for the couch in their living room. He thinks that Eddie might complain but no such barading comes. Instead, he lies back onto the couch, pulling Richie on top of him, suffocating him again with his thighs, and Richie thinks ‘ _ Jesus, there’s no place I’d rather fucking be _ ’. 

Richie settles on top of him, the ghost of Eddie’s whine on his upper lip. Richie cards his fingers through Eddie’s brown locks, feeling the soft hair bounce back underneath his fingertips, and Eddie cants his hips up against him. And Richie knows it’s because he wants more, so he grinds his hips down and Eddie groans appreciatively, breathing out a quiet  _ ‘Rich’  _ that has Richie’s mind absolutely  _ reeling _ , he’s so hard and he can feel that Eddie’s hard, too, and that makes  _ him  _ harder. 

With one hand, he starts to unbutton the flowered shirt hastily, because he knows that if he goes slow, Eddie will yell at him. He tries not to rip any buttons because, well, it’s still  _ his  _ shirt and he quite likes this one. Especially now that he’s seen Eddie in it like this. It belongs in a museum. 

Once the shirt is fully opened, Richie moves his lips down Eddie’s jaw. Without Richie’s lips on his, Eddie releases harsh breaths that Richie wishes he could eat up. Those quiet exhales turn into little moans when Richie’s tongue is on his neck and his hand is trailing down Eddie’s body to grip one thick thigh, pushing it down so his legs are spread and ready for Richie to get to work. 

Richie’s lips travel down Eddie’s chest, abdomen, and to his waist. Both of Eddie’s hands tighten in Richie’s hair and pull him desperately closer. Richie looks up at him, and he holds back a moan. Eddie’s face is flushed, his head thrown back, mouth open in a soft ‘o’. And damn, Richie has never had a better view in his entire  _ life _ . 

Richie’s hand slips under Eddie’s backside, gripping his ass the best that he can at this angle. 

“Wanna fuck you, Eddie baby.” He whispers viscously into Eddie’s ear. 

“Yeah.” Eddie moans lightly, and his legs fall further apart. Richie traces a finger down between them and Eddie’s hips buck into his hand. 

“And you’re gonna keep the shirt on while I do.” 

“ _ Yeah _ .  _ Rich _ .” Eddie whines. 

“ _ My _ shirt.” Richie growls. “Because you’re  _ mine _ .” Eddie yelps when Richie rewards him with a sharp slap on his thigh. 

“Fuck.  _ Please _ .” 

And Richie has never run so fast to their room and back, for lube and a condom,  _ in his life _ . 

Eddie makes such pretty noises when Richie pushes a wet finger into him, when he slides it in and out rapidly so he can put in another next to it to stretch his hole open for Richie’s cock, which is  _ so  _ hard because of Eddie’s moans against his lips and Eddie’s fingers scratching at his scalp and the skin of his back. And when Richie brushes his prostate, Eddie’s  _ wails  _ of pleasure ping pong around in his brain in an unstoppable loop that makes him feel dizzy- as if he would ever want it to stop. 

“Rich,” Eddie nips at Richie’s lips. “Please.” Richie smiles crookedly, head fuzzy with it. 

“Yeah. You want it?” And Eddie scoffs unbelievably before he stares Richie dead in the eyes like it’s a challenge. 

“ _ Fuck me _ .” 

All the air feels like it’s been punched out of his lungs, for just a moment. Eddie’s eyes are so dark and dilated. He looks so  _ hot  _ that Richie cannot believe that Eddie is really talking to  _ him _ , telling  _ Richie  _ to  _ fuck him _ . He catches his breath, and remembers, before they do that, they need the condom on the floor next to them. But before  _ that _ , Richie takes off the boxers he’s wearing because how could he have forgotten  _ that _ ? 

He blames Eddie. Eddie is very distracting. 

And once they’re situated with Richie between Eddie’s legs, after Eddie has lovingly scolded him for taking too long-  _ hurry the fuck up, Dick _ -, and after Richie takes a second to give Eddie a playful pinch on his ass cheek-  _ Eddie, baby, that was  _ rude-, and  _ then  _ after Eddie spits out another ‘ _ fuck me _ ’, Richie slides into him with a groan. 

He sits for a moment, letting Eddie adjust. Until Eddie pinches him on the shoulder and tells him to  _ move _ . He goes slow at first, as not to hurt Eddie, but also to tease him. The slide of it is wet because of the shit ton of lube he decided to use- which Eddie will yell at him for later, no doubt, because it’s making a  _ mess- _ . But it’s good. 

“Richie.” Eddie breathes out impatiently, and Richie only hums in return. Eddie’s legs tighten around him. “ _ Richie _ .” 

And Richie takes the hint. 

With one hand on Eddie’s hip, Richie starts really thrusting, starts putting his back into it. And the potential soreness is worth it because Eddie’s head falls back against the cushion of the couch and he lets out a long moan. 

“Yes.  _ Yes _ .” 

Richie growls, gripping the arm of the couch so he can keep up the pace that he’s set. Anything to hear more cries of pleasure from Eddie's lips. 

He watches Eddie’s eyes roll back and his eyes flutter closed. Eddie’s lips are wet from their sloppy kissing and so  _ pink  _ Richie is sure that, if he licked them right now, he would taste like strawberries. The little breathy noises coming from in between those lips are so sweet sounding and hot that he wants to breathe them in and swallow them up. 

But what takes the cake for Richie is the fact that Eddie is  _ still wearing his shirt _ . That, even with it on, he can still look at Eddie’s beautiful body while he fucks into him. The combination of everything settles hard in his gut, like a fire, and he’s getting dangerously close to coming. 

But he wants Eddie to come first. 

One of Eddie’s hands slaps down onto Richie’s back, clawing at his skin, and Richie hisses. 

“Rich.” It’s barely a whisper, but Richie hears it like a roaring waterfall. Eddie is looking at him now with his dark hooded eyes and in that moment, Richie would give him anything he wanted.  _ Anything _ . 

“Yeah, Eds?” It comes out rough, and Eddie whines. 

“ _ Rich _ .” Eddie's legs tighten impossibly tight around him, and Richie swears under his breath. 

“Fuck.” 

Richie screws his eyes shut, gripping the couch so hard he thinks he might rip the fabric. Eddie moves against him, his hips meeting every thrust that Richie gives him. The sound of their skin slapping together is too much for him, so he drags his hand down to stroke Eddie’s cock. 

“Eddie, baby, come for me.” 

Eddie nods frantically, letting out little breaths of ‘uh uh uh’. Richie watches him, mesmerized, as Eddie’s lips form an ‘o’ while he moans and comes. And as soon as Richie hears that moan, he lets go, fucking Eddie through both of their orgasms. 

Richie drops his head against Eddie’s, both of them catching their breath. 

“I guess I’ll be wearing your shirts more often.” Eddie breathes, and Richie laughs, which sounds more like a wheeze. 

“Sounds good to me.” 


End file.
